


An Unorthodox Method

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: And Hugh Dancy, Fast Food, I Love Mads Mikkelsen, I can't believe I finally did this, M/M, New & Incorrigible Fannibal, Normally Not Into Explicit Hannigram Sex, Oral Sex, Sleepovers, Southern Hospitality, Therapy, hope they're not too OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:39:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will needs a little help getting to sleep. Hannibal is happy to help. Set during season 1 before the shit hits the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unorthodox Method

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't ever want God  
> to hear our screams  
> and mistake them for prayers."
> 
> -Born Villain, Marilyn Manson-

“How have you been sleeping? Have your nightmares abated any?”

“No, not at all; in fact, it seems like they’re getting worse.”

Will sighed and rubbed his eyes, swollen and bloodshot as if he had been drinking or partaking of an illicit substance. His bright blue eyes were rimmed with heavy dark circles, as if he had been punched. He looked haggard and thoroughly miserable, but, Hannibal thought, he had never looked more beautiful.

Impulsively, Hannibal reached out to touch Will, rubbing small circles on his cheek with his thumb. Will’s eyes widened at the gesture. His face flushed bright crimson, and he felt the giddy and fluttery sensation he always did whenever Hannibal initiated physical contact. Will closed his eyes as Hannibal continued the action. He leaned in closer, and Will felt the warm rush of Hannibal’s breath as he whispered:

“If it is alright with you, I would like to try something new to help you with your difficulty sleeping. It is somewhat unconventional, but I have found that such methods – outside the realm of the ordinary – are usually the most effective.”

“Okay.” Will opened his eyes to find that Hannibal was still close to his face. Close enough that, if he were so bold, Will could lean forward and kiss him. Hannibal pressed his forehead against Will’s, and felt a rush of pleasure when his friend shivered and took in a deep, gasping breath. 

“What are you going to do?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps one reason it is so hard for you to sleep is because you have to sleep alone?”

“What do you mean? I’ve been sleeping alone for my whole life!”

“Yet you have not always had trouble sleeping have you?”

“No . . .” Will blushed as he considered the implication of this ‘unconventional method.’ “No, but I don’t see how sleeping with anyone else is going to solve the problem.”

“Do you trust me, Will?”

“Yes. Maybe I shouldn’t, as much as I do, but yes. I trust you more than most.”

“Thank you, Will. Knowing that I have your trust is a great comfort to me.” The corners of Hannibal’s mouth curved up in a smile. “Now then, I suppose you know where this is heading.”

“Hannibal, would you like to sleep over at my house?”

Hannibal smiled again, baring his teeth. His eyes glinted as he said, “Yes, thank you.”

. . . . .

“What is that awful racket?” Hannibal cringed as techno-electronica screeches flooded his senses. Will turned the volume down on the radio, but did not change the station. “Believe it or not, this is one of my favorite bands. Well, I don’t really have a favorite per se,” he amended, “but this kind of music helps me keep alert. I listen to stuff like this all the time.”

“How can you call this music? This is abominable.” Hannibal stated it as fact, his tone flat and emotionless. Hannibal grinned cheekily and turned the volume back up a bit. “It is music. Just not the kind of music you’re used to. ‘Different strokes for different folks,’ I guess.”

The singer’s words came into sharp focus. He was singing about someone being a ‘cynical, narcissistic cannibal.’ Hannibal smirked, suppressing his laughter as he reveled in the irony. Will sang along under his breath, oblivious to Hannibal’s humor.

Within a minute, the song reached its conclusion, and Hannibal was almost disappointed. 

As the hosts blathered on about trivial topics, Will fumbled with the knob, searching until he came to a classic station. “There you go, Doctor: ‘Fur Elise,’ one of the best in the genre, in my opinion.”

“And in mine as well.” Hannibal’s expression softened as the piano chords rose and fell. For a moment he was a child again, sitting on the bench beside Mother as she played on the grand baby she had brought from Florence when she married his father. All too soon the song ended, followed immediately by Mozart’s Sonata 11 in A Minor.

It took about an hour to get to Wolf Trap from Baltimore. Will and Hannibal spent the rest of the ride in a comfortable, companionable silence.

. . . . .

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you’re used to.” Will smiled sheepishly as he set the plate down in front of Hannibal. “I should have asked ahead of time what you wanted, but . . .”

“Never mind, Will, this is fine.” Hannibal gave a slight, disingenuous smile as he took in the bland fare: a chicken drumstick, green beans, and mashed potatoes. If Will detected his insincerity, he did not mention it. “I stopped by the KFC in Vienna earlier today. You have probably never eaten there in your life, but their food is decent, I promise.”

“You are correct on that point. I do not eat in –” he paused as he considered what he should say. “I do not eat in fast food establishments.”  
“I didn’t think you did. You’re a man used to foie gras and veal, after all.” Will grinned and patted Hannibal on the back. “What would you like to drink? I have Coke, water, ice tea, lemonade –“

“I would prefer something with spirits, if you please.”

“All I have is –“

“Whatever you have will suffice, Will.”

“Alright.” Will shrugged and walked across the kitchen to the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle and concealed it behind his back as he approached. “Remember, you said whatever I have, so . . .” Will put the glass on the table: wild grape flavored Smirnoff vodka. 

Will couldn’t help but laugh as Hannibal casually picked up a napkin to pop the cap, took a small sip, and pursed his lips as if he had sucked on a lemon. “You still going to drink it? I won’t be offended if you don’t like it.”

“No, no. I said whatever you have is fine, and I meant it. I will drink it.” Hannibal dutifully took another sip as Will turned back to get his drink. A southern boy with simple tastes, he settled on a can of classic Coca Cola. Sitting across from Hannibal, Will observed with interest as Hannibal delicately ate the skin off of his drumstick, before sinking his teeth into the sweet white meat. He was so mesmerized watching the man eat that Will forgot to eat his own food.

Until, that is, Hannibal cleared his throat and stared pointedly at Will’s plate, a duplicate of his own. Will chuckled and stabbed his fork into his green beans. He took three bites before Hannibal resumed, spooning up the mashed potatoes topped generously with gravy. “That’s the best part, I think,” Will said, taking a bite of his potatoes. “This gravy is the best I’ve ever tasted – from a restaurant, at least. I’ve loved it and the KFC potatoes since I was a kid.”

“I thought so. Before you ask, the way I can tell is the obvious pleasure you get out of eating them, as if you are enraptured. The last time I saw a similar expression was when my last lover reached orgasm.” Will grinned, and felt heat rush in his face as he flushed bright pink. He cursed his pallid Scottish ancestors for passing down such an embarrassing tendency. Hannibal, on the other hand, was duskier in complexion, a mixture of – what was it he had said? – Lithuanian and Italian. Lucky bastard.

Hannibal continued eating, pretending not to notice Will’s embarrassment. With all of the horrifically disgusting things the man had seen, Hannibal could not quite understand why discussion of something sexual had such an effect on him. (Secretly, he loved that look.)

Will hurriedly ate his drumstick. He picked the plate up, carried it into the kitchen, and scraped off the leftovers into the trashcan with his fork. Desperate to return to his usual calm demeanor, Will washed his plate and silverware in the sink, dried them and set them in the dish drainer.  
Suddenly, he was enveloped in Hannibal’s arms. 

The doctor buried his nose in Will’s hair, sniffing the delectable aroma of his shampoo. “Garnier Fructis,” Hannibal stated. “Coconut.” His voice lowered in an unexpected rasp that made Will shiver. Hannibal kissed the back of his neck, and Will made a low moaning sound like a waking dreamer. 

“I know that it is early,” Hannibal murmured, licking at the base of Will’s neck. “But would you be terribly disappointed if we turned in for the night?”

. . . .

Will stood in the middle of his bedroom, staring dumbly at Hannibal, who sat calmly on the edge of his bed. “Talk to me Will. Tell me what you are feeling.”

“Okay. You really want to know? I’m trying not to lose my cool here.” Will blinked and shifted his gaze to the floor, afraid of meeting Hannibal’s gaze. “I thought you just meant we’d sleep together, not that we’d actually . . . SLEEP together. I’m your patient.”

“Will, we have gone over this. You are not my patient – not in any official capacity. I have told you before, and I will say it now: you are my friend. At least, I consider you to be. What am I to you?”

“You’re my friend, too, of course you are.” Will tugged nervously at the collar of his blue button-up, an endearing gesture that made Hannibal want to walk over and hug him. “But I thought you said -”

“I told you my method would be unconventional. You are the only patient to receive this treatment.”

“Oh wow, thanks. I guess I should feel pretty honored!”

“Will, in all sincerity, this will help you to sleep better. I promise you that.”

“So you say . . .”

“You told me you trust me ‘more than most.’ Was that a lie?”

“No!”

“Good. I am glad to hear it, but now the time has come for you to prove it: remove your clothes.”

Will gulped and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “I – I can’t! I’m sorry, Hannibal.” Before he could wallow in his misery, Hannibal was up and in front of him, deftly unbuttoning his shirt. Will was too shocked to say anything, but stood still as Hannibal pulled the shirt off of his shoulders, exposing his pale, hairless chest. Almost as if in apology, Will stammered something about not liking the feel of chest hair, so he shaved it off, he hoped that was okay.

“Oh yes,” Hannibal purred. He kissed the center of Will’s chest, and then moved on to his nipples, first teasing with his tongue, and then closing his teeth on them. Will hissed at the sting, but the look in his eyes let Hannibal know that he liked it. Hannibal stepped back, and in a matter of 45 seconds divested himself of his suit, tie, and undershirt. Will noted that Hannibal had an ample supply of chest hair, thick whorls of grey that he was tempted to twine his fingers through.

As if reading his mind (at this point Will wasn’t certain that he could not) Hannibal nodded. He reached out to take Will’s hand, and brought it against his chest. Will thread his fingers through different strands of hair, softly caressing Hannibal’s nipples before digging his nails into them. Hannibal merely smiled. He stretched his hands out and unbuckled Will’s belt. 

“This is in the way,” he said, the way he might say that it was raining or cold outside. Purely methodical, with no emotion. Will struggled to hide his disappointment, and failed. Seeing his troubled look Hannibal asked what was wrong. Will shook his head and didn’t answer, which was answer enough for Hannibal. He unbuttoned Will’s jeans and slowly slid them down his legs, his beautiful, muscular legs.

“One more thing.” Will stepped out of his jeans and stared into Hannibal’s eyes as the older man quickly pulled down his briefs. Holding Will’s gaze, Hannibal reached down to take Will into his hand. He stroked the member and squeezed gently, his eyes crinkled in delight at the sound of Will’s moan.

“W-wait,” Will gasped and put his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders. “You still have your pants on,” he explained. “Can I take them off? Quid pro quo . . .”  
Hannibal nodded and released his hold. With shaking fingers, Will unbuttoned and pulled down Hannibal’s slacks. He stuck two fingers in the band of his underwear and grazed Hannibal’s penis tentatively. Hannibal did not make a sound, but his maroon eyes shone and he grinned wolfishly as Will pulled the underwear down, staring unabashedly at Hannibal’s erection as he stepped out of them.

Wordlessly, the two men came together, pressing their lips and shafts against each other. Hannibal ground roughly against Will until he too was erect, and just as he was about to burst, he stopped. Will whined and clenched his eyes shut as Hannibal backed away, seeming to take delight in denying him release. Quietly Hannibal knelt down in front of Will, taking him into his mouth so suddenly that Will gasped and dug his fingers into Hannibal’s hair.

Hannibal kissed and suckled Will’s member, and circled his fingers around the base to squeeze roughly. Will groaned and began to tremble, moving his hands to hold Hannibal’s shoulders. He dug his nails in, deep enough to draw blood, as Hannibal slid down the length of him and back, until only the head was between his lips. He slid down again, and that was it. With a shudder and a moan Will surged forward, pulsing and bursting into the sweet, warm wetness of the doctor’s mouth.

He shuddered, his legs suddenly turned to jelly. He clung to Hannibal as he fell to his knees, slipping out of his mouth. “Oh. My. GOD!”

Hannibal swallowed the seed and smacked his lips. “I am afraid God has nothing to do with this, Will. Tell me, how do you feel?”

“I c-can’t describe it. Wow, I guess. I, um, certainly wasn’t expecting this when I invited you over. But I’m very glad you did it.”

“Wonderful. It is always good to hear that my work is appreciated. What I mean more particularly is if you feel the least bit tired or not?”  
“Hmm? I feel, I don’t know . . . I definitely feel like I could sleep better. I feel – accomplished?”

“Perhaps ‘sated’ is a better word.” Hannibal stood up, reached down, and picked Will up as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. “We are making good progress, but still have a bit of work to do.”

“What -”

“Shhh,” Hannibal cut Will off with a kiss, drawing his lower lip between his teeth, biting down until he tasted blood. He shuddered involuntarily as he imagined what it would be like to take a bite out of him. He was DELICIOUS.

“I am going to make you come, again and again, until you have not the energy to stay awake.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've read some great Hannigram here, really great. Sorry, can't think of any in particular, but get a look at my bookmarks to see my faves so far. I wanted to try my hand at writing Hannigram sex, too, which is totally weird as I never thought I could.
> 
> The "soundtrack" to this fic - what I listened to as I wrote it, at least - is as follows:
> 
> *"Born Villain" by Marilyn Manson  
> *"Narcissistic Cannibal" by Korn  
> *"Fur Elise" by Beethoven  
> *"Piano Sonata No. 11" (Alla Turca) by Mozart
> 
> I don't know really what kind of music Will's into, but I thought that kind of cathartic loud rock Korn does would help him focus. And the song is too hilarious to not include in a Hannibal fic. :P


End file.
